


Wrecking Ball

by kilgraves



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Cora and Isaac are buds, Depression, Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Slow Build, Stiles and Lydia used to date
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-26 12:00:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kilgraves/pseuds/kilgraves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac admits himself into a psychiatric hospital and ends up being Stiles' latest roommate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing anything even resembling Stiles/Isaac. I've never thought too seriously about the ship as a whole, but the other day I got the idea for this and I just ran with it. I'm not sure where it's going to go, but I'm enjoying writing it so far. 
> 
> I can always be found [here](http://princesharman.tumblr.com) on Tumblr :)

Isaac Lahey isn’t crazy, he really isn’t.

Granted, he has tried to kill himself, twice; once with pills and once by slitting his wrists. Both were failures, of course, because naturally, he can’t even succeed at taking his own life. 

And he does have a history - a very long one - with depression and mental illness in general. His mother killed herself when Isaac was twelve, after his older brother, Camden, was killed in combat. His father hasn’t been the same since, his mind warped by alcohol to make him think that beating his son is justified by grief (spoiler alert: it’s _not_ ). 

Maybe he hears voices sometimes. Maybe he cuts himself to try and keep them at bay. Maybe he’s had dreams about hitting his father back, just once, until he bleeds and begs for mercy, just like Isaac’s done so many times in the past.

But he’s not fucking crazy.

So why is he in a mental hospital?

He admitted himself.

————

He asks them not to call his dad, or Erica - but they do both, much to his dismay. Erica arrives at the hospital half an hour later, cheeks flushed and eyes shining with worried tears. She brings him clothes and all the necessities, at the doctor’s request - which he’s grateful for, seeing as he’s probably going to be here for a while.

"I love you," she whispers in his ear after pulling him into a tight hug.

He forces a smile to calm her nerves, “I love you too. I’m going to be okay, I promise.”

Erica nods, biting back tears, and when the nurse tells her it’s time for her to leave, she allows herself to be led out of the white double doors, blowing a kiss to Isaac as she goes. 

His father never shows up, and he hates himself for being so hurt by it. He _knew_ he wouldn’t come, he shouldn’t be surprised. He shouldn’t have expected his dad to care, not now, after all these years, after all he’s done. 

————

The nurse who guides him down the long, white-walled hallway to his room is very pretty. Isaac thinks she could be a model or an actress with her good looks, and can’t help but wonder why she’s wasting her time _here_ , surrounded by crazies.

"Your roommate’s a real sweetheart," she informs him, stopping in front of one of the doors, "We haven’t had any incidents with him in quite some time, and he knows everyone here very well. He’ll be able to help you get adjusted in no time."

When Isaac nods, she smiles and pushes the door open. He edges over the threshold anxiously, clutching his bag to his chest like a safety net. His eyes fall onto the sleeping figure of a boy, curled up on his side in the bed on the far side of the room. The nurse moves across the tiled floor and gently nudges the boy awake, until he stirs.

He rolls over and blinks up at her groggily, mumbling, “What’s up, Lucy? Did I sleep through another fire drill?”

"Lucky for you, no," she replies affectionately, helping him sit up on the edge of his bed, and gesturing to Isaac, "Your new roommate is here."

The boy’s eyes land on Isaac, and he grins, “Hey, dude, I’m Stiles. You a first timer?”

Isaac can’t seem to do anything but blink for the first few seconds after being asked this question. He stares at the boy, _Stiles_ , taking in his appearance and mannerisms, trying to assure himself that this isn’t going to be as bad as he imagines. He’s got messy, dark hair, cropped short and piled on top of his head. His skin is pale, but not as pale as Isaac’s, and peppered with occasional freckles and moles, and his eyes are brown. The corners of his mouth turn up rather than down, a telltale sign that he smiles a lot and laughs even more often. He’s watching Isaac expectantly, who finally remembers that he’s just been asked something.

Swallowing his nerves - of which there are _far_ too many - Isaac nods, forcing himself to respond, “I-I’m Isaac, and yeah, I am.”

"I can tell," Stiles says, rubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands, "You’re too nervous, must be new."

As Stiles lays down on his bed, face up, the nurse - Lucy - turns back to Isaac, “I’ll let you two get acquainted. If you ever need anything at all, don’t hesitate to come and see me.”

And then she’s gone, and they’re alone, and the room feels very hot all of a sudden. Stiles motions for Isaac to sit down on the empty bed opposite his, and he does, a little too quickly, dropping his bag onto the floor. The mattress is soft, not uncomfortable like he’d assumed, and the room is small, but he doesn’t feel boxed in - which is lucky, because he’s claustrophobic as all hell. Stiles watches him, a calculated look on his face, like he already knows everything he needs to about him, just from one glance.

"Why are you here?" Stiles asks, breaking through the silence like a knife to flesh.

Isaac blinks, and says nothing.

"Oh, come on," Stiles huffs, raising his eyebrows knowingly, "Whatever it is, it can’t be nearly as bad as some of the crap other people have done to land themselves in here. Plus, I’m going to find out eventually. I figured it might be best to ask you first, before I start hearing rumors or something."

Considering this, Isaac chews at his bottom lip and fidgets with the hem of his t-shirt, before mumbling, “I admitted myself.”

"No way!" Stiles’ eyes widen and he sits up, "Really? That’s so old school. Most of the people here have done some seriously fucked-up stuff, you wouldn’t _believe_ the gossip I hear on a daily basis.”

"Is it… weird that I did that?" Isaac asks, confused, eyebrows furrowed.

Stiles shrugs, “Not weird, just rare. Why’d you admit yourself?” When Isaac hangs his head, Stiles backtracks, “You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to, don’t worry, we can work up to that. I have a feeling we’re going to be friends anyway - I’m friends with everybody in here.”

Isaac glances back up at him, murmuring, “H-How long have you-?”

"Over a year now," he replies, his tone calm and not giving anything away, "I was supposed to get released three months ago, but, uh… I couldn’t handle it, and here I am - still."

Isaac falls silent after this, not knowing what to say and not even sure if he wants to know anything more than Stiles has already told him. A couple of minutes pass, before Stiles speaks up again, voice casual, “I’m assuming you want to know why _I’m_ here? Especially considering the fact that I’m basically a regular around this place.”

"No," Isaac says, shaking his head, "No, it’s fine - I mean, if you want to tell me, you can, but I can go without knowing."

Stiles grins like he’s impressed, and then stands up, gesturing for Isaac to do the same. When he does, he follows Stiles out of their room and into the long hallway he’d walked down earlier, with Lucy.

"Where are we going?" He asks, trying to hide the excitement in his voice, but doing a pretty shit job of it.

"You’re going to be with us for a while, right?" Stiles shoots a look over his shoulder to Isaac, and smiles, "I think it’s only fair of me to introduce you to some of the other losers who spend their days cooped up in this loony bin."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long for me to post! I'll try my best to be faster with updates in the future.  
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoy part two :)

When they turn the corner at the end of the hallway, Stiles pulls him through a pair of double doors and into a room he hasn’t yet seen. It’s big and white (of course), with windows lining the walls, allowing sparse bits of sunlight to peek in. There are tables, chairs and couches spread out all around, with patients occupying most of them. Isaac takes notice of the fact that some are sitting alone and not making a sound, while others are talking animatedly - either to themselves or people near them. 

"This is the rec room," Stiles explains cheerfully, stretching out his arms as if to engulf the space as a whole, "Or the living room, the lounge, the pizza room, whatever you want to call it. It’s where every one hangs out during free time - c’mon." He indicates for Isaac to follow him over to a table in one of the corners, where three people - two girls and a boy - are sitting together. When the group takes notice of the two of them, they fall silent and Stiles laughs, "Wow, way to appear totally freaking  _ominous_ , guys.”

One of the girls smiles and glances at Isaac, blue eyes looking him up and down, “Who’s this?”

Stiles slings an arm around Isaac’s shoulder, as if he’s known him for years rather than minutes, and replies, “This is Isaac. He’s new - admitted himself this morning.” All three of them seem impressed by this fact, which Isaac still doesn’t understand. “Isaac, these are my friends - they’re much cooler than they look, I promise. Ariel,” the girl who spoke earlier waves; she’s got long, wavy black hair, a pale complexion, and a star tattoo on her collarbone, “Marshall,” the boy cocks his head, a wide grin on his lips; he has a mess of dark brown hair, a lazy eye and a mustache, “And Cora,” the other girl merely raises a hand, not smiling or looking up; she’s got chestnut colored hair, wound into a tight braid, sad eyes and a series of severe but healing cuts covering her right arm.

"Hi," Isaac mumbles bashfully, cheeks hot as he surveys the three teenagers. He shouldn’t feel this shy - they’re all in the same situations, after all - but he can’t help wanting them to like him. "So, how long have you guys been in here?"

"Four months," Marshall’s quick to reply, still with that goofy, friendly smile on his face. "They only stopped calling me ‘newbie’ two weeks ago."

Ariel chimes in after him, softly, “I’ve been here for a little over six months.”

Isaac turns his gaze to Cora, who says nothing, eyes fixed on her hands in her lap.

"She doesn’t talk much," Stiles mutters under his breath, "It’s nothing personal - she’ll warm up to you soon enough. She’s just not good with strangers, it’s a long story."

Isaac nods slowly, unable to process everything around him all at once. Every one here is so hurt, and it’s harder to tell with certain people because some are better at hiding it. But Cora is a perfect example of a damaged person who can’t possibly hide just how broken they are. She’s very mousy, and even though her hair is tied in a braid, he can tell it’s brittle and ragged. Her eyes are hollow, and she looks so fragile - he can tell she’s been here for a long time - it’s disconcerting.

He shrugs it all off, though, because he has to go into this with an open mind. He can’t let himself get overwhelmed.

Stiles sits down next to Marshall on the couch, and Isaac follows suit, plopping down beside Ariel. 

"Did you hear about what happened with Lydia earlier?" She asks, directing her question to Stiles, who quirks an eyebrow.

"Nah, I was asleep - what happened?"

Ariel leans in close and murmurs, “We were in arts and crafts, and all of a sudden, she starts screaming at the top of her lungs. Then she started thrashing around, throwing things - it took four codes to get her under control again. She’s been in solitary ever since.”

"Shit," Stiles mumbles, before shrugging, his eyes glinting, "Well, she  _is_ a screamer, that’s nothing new.”

At this comment, all three of the teenagers - even Cora, Isaac notes - reach out and smack any part of him they can get at. Stiles puts up his hands in surrender, while Isaac furrows his eyebrows in confusion, “Who’s Lydia?”

Marshall pipes up this time: “She’s a paranoid schizophrenic - hears voices in her head, thinks everyone’s out to get her, the usual stuff.”

"She’s been here even longer than Stiles has," Ariel adds, quietly, "About two years now."

Stiles nods, scratching his head and murmuring, “We’ve got a bit of a history-,”

"Yeah," Marshall snickers, " _Ancient_ history. She won’t even give you the time of day anymore, man.”

"Shut up," Stiles retorts, but he doesn’t argue the statement as he looks back at Isaac, "It lasted six months, that's like a millenium in teen years."

Isaac raises an eyebrow, “You…  _dated_  while you were both in a  _mental hospital_?”

Stiles pulls a snarky grin, leaning back against the sofa with his hands behind his head, “Yeah, it was pretty intense. After a while, though, it just got too complicated and I broke up with her - she’s never really forgiven me.”

"Are there a lot of schizophrenics here?" Isaac asks, looking around the room at various patients, "Or is it mainly just depression and anxiety?"

Marshall shrugs, "There's a couple, but Lydia's the most severe case we've got." 

"Honestly, though," Stiles interjects, "There's enough gossip around this place to fill three issues of Cosmopolitan - or whatever it is that girls read." 

Ariel nods, a wicked grin on her lips, "The woman in the corner over there - her name's Jackie - hears her dead husband talking to her sometimes. She's one of the only patients without a roommate, because she drove all the ones she's ever had nuts from the way she babbles to herself all night." 

Isaac turns to look at where she's pointing, his eyes falling onto a woman with scraggly gray hair, hunched over in her seat and murmuring under her breath, lips moving a million miles an hour.

"Jackie's cool," Stiles says, shooting Ariel a reproachful glance, "She got me out of going to group therapy one time when I wasn't feeling up to it." 

Marshall nudges Isaac and motions towards the other couch a few feet away, where four patients are sitting side by side, "The guy in the middle, with the glasses, is named Kyle. He's a pansexual sex addict and manic depressive. He's been here for about five months now - gets in trouble a lot for hitting on new patients." 

Isaac raises his eyebrows, observing the boy, who looks to be a few years older than him. He's chatting animatedly to a girl beside him, resting his hand on her thigh and smiling. 

"One of the other regulars is over there," Ariel adds, pointing now to another corner of the room, where a very thin girl sits by herself, "Her name's Faith, and she's been battling anorexia for roughly seven years. When she was first admitted - two years ago - she only weighed 72 pounds. I think she's up to 90-something now - she's really nice, we're all proud of her." 

"Faith's a total sweetheart," Stiles says, before turning his attention o a boy across the room from them and mumbling, "That kid's name is Monty - he's sixteen and the only other person in here who admitted themselves."

Isaac jumps on this opportunity and voices the question he's had ever since his first encounter with Stiles: "Why is it so impressive that I admitted myself?"

Instead of the group jumping to answer, like he expected, they fall silent, shooting each other uncomfortable glances. Cora reaches up to slide a finger into her mouth, chewing on the nail anxiously. Stiles is the one who takes it upon himself to reply, "Listen, dude... Something you're going to learn pretty quickly - if you haven't already - is that none of us are happy to be here, none of us  _want_ to be. Most of the people in here are only here because they ran out of options or had no hope left. But you and Monty admitted yourselves - you  _chose_ to be here. You chose  _life..._ and help. There's still hope for you, and that's kind of unheard of around here." 

Isaac opens his mouth to respond, but a loud buzzing noise cuts him off. Upon hearing the sound, everyone in the room starts to stand up, and Isaac's eyebrows furrow, "What's that?" 

"It's seven o'clock," Ariel replies, absentmindedly fixing Cora's braid for her, "Dinner time." 

Nodding slowly, Isaac falls in step behind Stiles, following him and the rest of the patients out of the rec room and through a set of double doors marked 'Cafeteria'. The room is big, with long tables lined up side by side and serving counters on the far wall. Stiles helps him figure everything out - like what is and isn't good/"real food" and where to sit - and Isaac learns things about his new friends in the process. 

He learns that Ariel is very specific about none of her food touching, after watching her request a brand new plate upon noticing that her peas were mixing with her mashed potatoes. Marshall has the appetite of someone who's never even seen food before - he eats every meal as if it's his last. Cora refuses to eat in front of people, so she goes to her room, accompanied by a nurse who waits outside of her door, and eats in privacy. Stiles organizes his food meticulously by color, primaries on the left side of his plate and secondaries on the right. Isaac never knew that eating could require so much fuss and effort, but then again, he isn't one to judge.

The teenagers around him make small talk, discussing the activities they took part in that day and gossiping about rumors they've heard. Isaac learns that Lydia, the girl Stiles used to date, will be let out of solitary confinement - a place that the group warns him never to get himself thrown into - in the morning, and that a manic depressive boy named William is going home on Thursday.

After a while, the chatter around him starts to dissolve and Isaac feels himself slipping into his thoughts. He wonders what his dad's doing right now; is he worried? is he angry? Is Erica beating herself up over it? Is everyone disappointed in him? He squeezes his eyes shut, bringing his hands up to cover his ears, and feels someone touching him gently. When he opens his eyes again, he sees Stiles watching him carefully, a warm hand resting on his shoulder. 

"You okay, dude?" He asks, and when Isaac shrugs, he nods knowingly, "Homesick?" 

Isaac shrugs, "Not really, no - I just don't want my friend to worry. I don't want to disappoint anyone, but I can't help feeling like I am?"

"Hey," Stiles' brown eyes soften, fingers soft on Isaac's shoulder, "You're doing the right thing, okay? It takes a lot of courage to do something like this, and if anybody punishes you for it: screw 'em." 

His words take a second to sink in, but once they have, Isaac feels an intense rush of gratitude towards his roommate and grins, "Thanks."

"No problem, man," Stiles replies brightly.

Seven-thirty rolls around and dinner ends routinely, with everyone throwing their trash away, placing their trays on the counters, and filing out of the cafeteria. Stiles drags Isaac back to their white-walled room just in time for "checks."

"Basically, there's a different guard assigned to each hall, and they do checks every morning at 7am and every night at 7:45. They come by each room and count all of the patients, to make sure we're all still, like, alive or whatever." 

A few minutes later, a guard comes by and does just that; clicking a flashlight and counting both of them as present, before moving on to the next room. After this, Stiles goes on to explain that 9pm is lights out, and they're permitted to do whatever they want until then. 

"We can go back to the rec room," he suggests, standing up and taking a few hopeful steps towards the door, "If you want?"

Isaac considers this, but shakes his head, "I'm pretty tired, actually, and it's been a  _long_  day, to say the least, and everything's kind of weird and crazy right now and... yeah. I-I think I'll just get ready for bed."

The reaction is so immediate that it genuinely startles him; Stiles turns on his heel and comes right back to sit on his bed, a few feet away from Isaac. 

"Well, in that case," he murmurs, a smile just beginning to form in the corner of his mouth, "I'll stay with you." 

Isaac feels guilty, unable to stop himself from stammering, "No, you don't, uh... You really don't have to do that, I'll be fine-,"

" _Isaac_ ," Stiles cuts him off by holding up a hand and meeting his eyes from across the room, "No worries, it's cool. I'd rather hang out with you anyway."

For what feels like the millionth time that day, Isaac's eyebrows furrow in confusion, and he breathes, "Why?"

Stiles smiles, "Because you're new and interesting and different and nice... and I want to learn as much about you as I can. Is that so hard to believe?"

"Only when 99% of what you just said isn't true," Isaac replies, scoffing and un-zipping his suitcase to find some clothes to sleep in. 

At that, Stiles smirks, "Well, I guess I won't know that until I get to know you, huh?"

There's a pause, because Isaac was starting to feel overwhelmed. He was starting to feel like he was going to stick out like a sore thumb in this world he's not a part of yet. He was starting to think that coming here was the wrong choice, that he should just call his dad to come check him out as soon as possible. He was starting to think that he was truly alone. 

But the way this boy - this uncommonly kind and  _genuine_  boy - is looking at him right now makes him realize that it's going to be okay. 

So when he looks back at Stiles, lips turning up at the corners, it's without hesitation, without anxiety, without nerves, and when Stiles returns the smile, he feels  _so_  grateful he can hardly stand it. 

**Author's Note:**

> You should give me feedback because it's my favorite thing :)


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